


11th Regiment Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry

by A_sillyGermaninLatin_Class



Series: Near the Great-Little Mountain [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: American Civil War, Interior monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21640834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_sillyGermaninLatin_Class/pseuds/A_sillyGermaninLatin_Class
Summary: This was an assignment for school that I think turned out fairly well. I really enjoyed writing it.
Series: Near the Great-Little Mountain [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560052





	11th Regiment Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry

**Author's Note:**

> This was an assignment for school that I think turned out fairly well. I really enjoyed writing it.

This is it. Padraig is saddled up, and my things are packed, such as they are. So all I have to do is go. It’s not like Mam’ll be alone. Eireann is still here, down the street. My brother-in-law is a good man, he’ll let her visit. She’ll keep Mam company while I’m off in the company doing my duty. And Dónal will stay. He has to. He’s too young to go to war, anyways. I’m sure Mam’ll understand. This is the only way to provide for her and Dónal. You make more in the army than in dinghy. I  _ have _ to go; I won’t be gone long anyhow. I’ll be back for Christmas.

I’ll tell her so, I’ll tell her--What should I say? Oh  _ Dia _ , my  _ Lord _ , what should I say?! “Dear Mam, I’m off to Boston to join the army. They need people to put down the rebels. I’ll be back in a few months.” No, no. That won’t do. What will happen to her if I’m gone? She’ll just say that they’ve got enough people already. “Boston’s a large town.” she’ll say, “There’s enough eejits in this world already, you don’t need to join them, Aidan.” She’ll tell me to keep with the fishing. She’ll mention Ronan. She’ll say how I’m following in his footsteps. But I’m not;  _ I’m _ not abandoning the family and running west. I am  _ not _ a thrice damned traitor.

That’s it! I’ll tell her I have to go to make up for Ronan. I won’t turn traitor to the Union or my family. So I’m going to enlist. Right now. All I have to do is step out of this door and go to the kitchen. She’ll be there making supper for us. Eireann and her family are coming over tonight.  _ Dia _ , I can’t go now. I should at least wait for Eireann. But then if I tell Mam, Eireann will cry. I couldn’t bear it if they cried.

No. It has to be now. Before anyone else arrives. Before I lose my nerve.

Everything is set out to go. All I have to do is take that first step. Padraig’s ready, my things are packed. The call has gone out. They need men to go out and squash that rebellion down south. They’ve charged me, and by God, I intend to fulfill that. Let them see what we Irish are like when you get our fighting blood up. I’ll knock some sense into the Rebs, no doubt.

All I have to do is tell Mam I’m going. It’s not  _ that _ hard; tell her ‘Mam,  _ tá grá agam duit _ , I love you, and I have to go. I’m signing up with the volunteer regiment. I’m going for you and for our country. This beautiful country that you fled to, that opened its doors to you, it’s calling out for aid from her people. When you were desperate, starving, beaten, who opened her doors? Who answered your pleas? America did. And now I see, every day, these people who do not know what to make of us. Who despise our relief. But  _ I _ am not afraid. I will show them my gratitude for this life, hard as it is. I will show them my gratitude dressed in blue with a musket on my shoulder. America is calling for me, calling for aid from her people. We  _ are _ her people, I  _ am _ answering that call. Mam,  _ tá grá agam duit _ , let me go and serve in the army. Let me head down to Boston and enlist. I’ll send you my money; I’ll make you proud Mam, more than Ronan. I’ll bring honor to our name. Someday people will look back and say “Yes, Kayleigh Whelan. What a wonderful woman. Her son served with honor and dignity in the Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry. He gave Johnny Reb a what for.”’

Ach, but she won’t let me go; what am I thinking? Why can’t I tell her? How will she get by without me? I should leave a note here on the bed and tell her where I’ve gone. I can sneak out the window like I used to when Ronan and I were young.

But no. I can’t be like Ronan. I can’t leave Mam and Eireann and Dónal with nothing but a letter. I wouldn’t know what to say anyway. I have to  _ tell _ them where I’m going. I have to tell them that they can’t change my mind. I  _ will _ serve, and I  _ will _ do it with honor. Even if all I’ve ever done is fishing, I will gladly shoulder my rifle and march.

Oh Mam, what am I doing? I need to tell you: I’m leaving tonight, I’m joining the army. It’s all for you and for our country. But mostly for you. What will you think of me, I wonder. Will you be sad? Regretful? Proud? I hope you’re proud of me. Otherwise what a sorry excuse of a son I’d be. I’d be worse than Ronan. I can’t leave without telling you, without leaving you something. I’m not that cruel.

I have to tell Mam; I have to tell her now. I can’t put it off any longer. I have to walk out this door and down the stairs and hop the last step because it’s creaky and walk into the kitchen. I’ll stand and wait until Mam turns around. She’ll have flour on her apron, but she’ll be smiling, because she’s always most happy in the kitchen. She knows what it’s like to be without. And I’ll walk up to her and hold her tight and tell her I’m going; that I’m going down south to that wonderfully wealthy land of poverty. 

And she’ll cry. I’m sure. What will she do without me? But still, I’m the only one left to take care of us. Da’s dead, Ronan left, Eireann’s married, Dónal’s too young still. And  _ I’m _ going to war. Oh  _ Dia _ , what am I doing to my family? We have to stay together. Mam can’t take another loss. But I must go. It is my duty. It is my burden. One I gladly take up upon myself.

Why can’t I tell Mam I’m joining the army? What’s stopping me? Everything is in my favor! I’m ready, I’m an adult now! Don’t you  _ dare _ say 19 is too young, Mam. The governor’s calling now for men like me. The neighbors say I have spirit. Well, when they’re feeling generous and I haven’t caused too much damage. I’ve only been in a  _ few _ barfights. It’s not like I seek trouble, but if someone insults our honor I have to defend it. Besides, the women down south are said to be quite fine. I’ll see more of this country than anyone else and Oh! the tales I can spin! So why can’t I walk out of this goddamned door and tell Mam that I’m going to Boston?

Everyone else is glad that their sons are going. The Walsh brothers have already gone, so has Rileigh Murphy. Their families are practically  _ honored _ to have their sons go and fight. And have you seen? The outrage at Fort Sumter! Surely you know what’s going on! This is an impingement of our honor! Ach, Mam you’ll let me go, won’t you? You won’t tell me to keep to my boats, will you? You’ll say ‘May the road rise up to meet you.’ and send me on my way with a loaf of bread. Because I must go.

But if I do, what will happen to you? Eireann has her own family now. You and Dónal are all alone. I can’t leave you here alone! You can’t provide for yourself; you can’t fish or sail. The only option for you is for me to stay. But I can’t stay. Besides, Dónal is a quick study, he can provide just as well. I have a duty now, I must go to Boston. I  _ want _ to go to Boston.

Everything I’ve done since Ronan left has been for you and Eireann and Dónal. How is this any different? I’m going to serve my country; I’m going because I need to go; I’m going to protect you. I’ll send you letters. I won’t forget you.

This is it. I’m going. I’m going to walk out of this door and tell Mam I have to leave, that I’m taking Padraig and enlisting. I can’t stay for dinner, they need men immediately. Please, Mam.


End file.
